Rise of the King
by Zakali21
Summary: The legend of Gojira is only a lore of the locals on Odo Island, or so it may seem. When mysterious events begin plauging the world, could it all be connected to that faithful legend? One person, Michael James, can discover the truth as he is on a race against time and Mother Nature as the seemingly mystical Monster is becoming a reality with only the world to suffer its wrath.
1. Prologue

_Hello G'Fans...Im back in the business of writting Godzilla Flicks. Rise of the King is sort of a reboot to Godzilla: Second Coming, but it has no connection AT ALL. Just wanted to clear that up so no-one gets confused with the two stories. Plus as of right now, i do not plan on continuing that Second Coming._

_So enjoy! R&R_

**Disclamir**: I do not own Godzilla or any related characters, they belong to© Toho Co. Ltd

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**Rise of the King**

_Odo Island, 1954_

It was the blackest of nights. Nothing could be seen even if you put your hand right in front of your face. It would have been consumed with the eternal dark of Mother Nature. The only single relief that could be considered was the stars. The stars sit scattered in the vast sky above the small fishing village; each one radiating an ion of light down onto a seemingly peaceful community. A community of fisherman and sellers that adhere to every single thing that happens on their island as some of their faith revolve around a legend. A legend that, despite how strange it might sound, will strikes fear into the villagers' hearts. The local lure is so strong that mothers will tell their children to behave and mind their elders or else. That "else" was to face the evil wrath of a "sea god", or "sea monster". It was strong and rooted in every person's heart and soul…if the local catch is short for the season its because of this "sea god", if a wanderer disappears, the monster got him. That's why on this night no-one will really question what happens, as the answer is already on the tip of the tongue of the local inhabitants.

A fierce breeze begins to muster itself. It begins from the north east and descends across the once calm sea. The sound it caused was defining as it grew in strength as a wall of clouds follow in its wake. A storm was brewing and its sights were dead locked on the innocent Odo Island. But this was not the worst of the island's worries. Just below the violent surface of spewing waves, something else stirred. A massive shape, too large to even fathom, was making its ascent towards the surface. Once it reached a certain depth, it changed its course towards the shoreline. On the surface it looked only like a glint of a shadow, but underneath a behemoth of massive proportions was about to make its presence known.

On the island, villagers scrambled about in hurried fashion to secure the shacks. Some were so flimsy that their inhabitants had to add extra wood or straw just to cover up potential leaks. But the storm was advancing fast as the winds knocked around anything that was left out; tree branches were slammed around like rag dolls. Everything was turning dangerous very rapidly and still people ran about. To make things even worse, a torrent of rain started to barrage down onto the town. Within a matter of seconds the intensity increased which made visibility nearly impossible. One couple was running only a few feet to their hut when the woman slipped from the rain and crashed into a puddle of mud. She made a sound to her partner for help who hurried over to help her up. Unknowing to them, just a few yards from their home something began its final rise to the surface world. The violent ocean swelled and rose upward into the sky. This creature was so massive its' body seemed to form into the storm itself, only the crackle of lighting revealed it to be a separate entity. As the storm continues to rage onward, the creature advances toward the shore and lets out a devastating roar.

The roar echoed through the village despite the ferociousness of the storm. It was heard above the thunder and howling wind, this was a true force of nature. The couple were finally about to enter their hut for safety when they felt their feet beneath them sway. The ferocity of the creature's footsteps was enough to make the earth shake. With each step they trembled and finally noticed the lumbering beast. Fear was the only thing that was plastered on their face as a tree came crashing down towards them as another horrifying roar was heard.


	2. Chapter 1

All rights to Godzilla belong to © Toho Co. Ltd

_Hope everyone enjoyed the first part! Here is the first Chapter and things are only more...creepy to say the least. Enjoy!_

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**Chapter 1**

_Igakso Mental Institution, Nagoya, Japan Present Day_

The hall ways seemed unnaturally quite and abandon, it would have fit naturally in some horror movie. The only downfall is this was not a movie; it was real just as any other building. Every inch of space vibrated with a feeling of tension which was probably not uncommon in a mental institution, or so as the conceived thought among people was and surely this one was not doing its reputation any favors. This was some of the feelings that reporter Michael James was experiencing as he was escorted to his destination. The only reprieve that Michael could discover was from the windows although it wasn't much. Each window had bars across them which created the strangest of shadows in the already barely illuminated hall. This place had the eerie feeling of a prison, complete with some holding cell type rooms. For a moment Michael wondered if he was taking his steps into hell wondering if this lead was a mistake. But upon that thought, his reporter instincts screamed at him that this could be the story of the decade. No, not screamed but it tore away at his mind only to remind him _he_ needs this. This was his one opportunity of redemption. His last report was a critical flop; it was burned and criticized in the eyes of the public. He was left with the sizzling reviews as a "has been" and "someone who could only capture success for minuscule of minute." It was a hard pill to swallow but so was the life of a reporter…or for some at least. You make it big; have your five minutes of fame and then wallow in the abyss of obscurity. _Unless_ you can keep recapturing that flame…a flame that this reporter had begun to wonder was extinguished.

However, Michael James was able to stumble across something that seemed…worthy. Under a hail of smoke and taste of alcohol, Michael discovered, via Google, of an old legend from Japan. If he was sober, he probably would have just shrugged it off as utter nonsense. But if drinking was good for anything it was dragging out the curiosity in him and he was fully intrigued. The legend itself was not the hook, line, sinker but more of the _incident_ that had happened in the late 1950's. A typhoon had devastated a small fishing village on Odo Island, which was part of the Bonin Island Chain. It seemed legit, but as the drunken stupor began to recede Michael found a small article that brought more confusion than questions. Oddly enough, it wasn't from a newspaper article but it was a few brief sentences from a military report. The mention of the word military alone sounded suspicious, especially for a typhoon but it was what the sentences said that lured him in. It reported "_strange fissures in the ground_" and "_sinkholes_". The last sentence read '_the sinkholes were in shape of a foot..._' and that's was the end. Just like that it was cut off without finishing the statement. There was something defiantly amiss here with the military being involved of a cleanup of a storm. It seemed out of place, strange but it also seemed curious that Japan's government would allow this piece of information to roam in the public…unless they didn't care. Whatever it was it stirred something in Michael.

Few months later, here was Michael now with more information than he had that night. He was fortunately able to come across something of relevance-or so it felt to his investigative nature. A survivor of that storm had made remarks of seeing "_a creature among the rain_" and "_terrible sound_" where some of the lines used. Upon further digging he discovered the man was here, locked up for apparently being 'mentally ill'. However, as Michael was walking down the hall, it did dawn on him that he could be just chasing nonsense and fabricated illusions brought up by old sea lore. He silently prayed that maybe this witness was credible and just maybe was worthy enough of some semblance of a story. Michael took a long inhale of air and held it knowing that this could be the one thing that rockets him up into stardom or burry him six feet under. It was a chance he decided to take; hell what else did he have to lose. On that thought, Michael realized he had arrived at destination and bit his lip. _Here goes nothing_ thought the reporter.

The air in the room felt stale as Michael crept in and glanced around. It wasn't a very big room, nor was there much of anything at all in it. _At least it's little brighter in here_ dimly thought Michael as his eyes quickly adjusted to the change of light. But that was not what held his attention; it was the old decrypted looking figure sitting in the chair. For a moment, Michael forgot his train of thought and just stared. If the old man noticed he had entered, he didn't show it. All he did was slowly rock back and fourth in his rocking chair with his hands griped to the sides. It all felt sort of surreal to him and he began to wonder if he _really_ was in a horror movie. The small room, vague lighting complete with old, creepy rocking chair was a perfect setting for one. Michael had to constantly say to himself that this was for the story, only the story. Finally Michael regained a hold of reality and felt silly. He chuckled quietly to himself and decided he better get this over with. After all he was the sane one…wasn't he?

"Excuse me, ah Mr. Lou" timidly began Michael, "I would like to ask you some questions…"

He let that statement hang in the air hoping that maybe it would stir something from the old man, but nothing happened. Michael sighed and stepped closer to Mr. Lou.

"I'm sorry to bother sir, but I'm a reporter from the states" and he immediately stopped as Mr. Lou slowly moved his head toward him. He just stared with blank eyes, never saying anything or maybe he could not speak.

"I…I want to ask you about what happened during the, uhhh, 1954 hurricane on your island"

Mr. Lou then looked back towards the window not even bothering to respond…or so it seemed. Michael was cursing himself at deciding to follow up on such a stupid source when he heard a sound, or more of a word. It was being repeated by Mr. Lou, his frail lips never missing a beat. Michael strained to hear it and walked closer.

The old man picked up his pace of rocking in his chair as it began to squeak. The whole time he kept saying the same word over and over again that all Odo Island residents no all to well.

"_Gojira…Gojira…Gojira_…"


End file.
